Untouchable (19 page)

‘He’s covered his tracks well,’ said Hex. ‘I looked through the Glaickvullin Lodge accounts and it all looks squeaky clean.’

‘You looked at the accounts? Maybe there are less obviously incriminating things. The factory’s a transcontinental container. He must have got a JCB to dig a big hole and he must have bought the container. Was there anything like that in the accounts?’

‘No,’ said Hex. ‘He must have paid cash.’

‘Have you got that handover time yet?’

‘No.’

‘As soon as you do, we’ve got a plan. Speak to you again in an hour.’ He cut the connection and crouched gratefully back into the cave.

Li shivered. ‘Have they got the handover time?’

Alex shook his head.

Paulo looked at his watch. It was nearly seven o’clock. ‘We’ve got about three hours until sundown.’

Alex took his rucksack off and walked down the passageway in search of more shelter. ‘Well, they’re enjoying the high life.’ He brought out an individual gas stove. ‘Anyone fancy a brew?’

Hex got up from the window seat. ‘They’ve found the factory, they’ve got a plan. All we’ve found is Tiff. We’ve got to step up, get active.’

‘The laird’s behind this, isn’t he?’ said Amber. ‘We need to watch him in private somehow. He must have an office. Is there anywhere we can get a plan of the whole place?’

Hex went to the ornate gilded desk. Several brochures were laid out in a fan shape. He picked them up and showed them to Amber. ‘There might be something in these.’

He riffled through one about the restaurant and catering. Amber took one about leisure facilities. She glanced through it while Hex opened another one. ‘Hey, this one’s business facilities,’ he said.

He looked like he’d had an idea but Amber couldn’t see the significance. ‘And?’

‘Conference room, ISDN facilities, broadband internet access . . . In the accounts was a bill for extending the ISDN line from the conference room to the laird’s office. It wasn’t that expensive, so it can’t have been far. A few metres at most. I’d bet good money that the laird’s private office is next door to the conference room.’

He went to his Gore-Tex jacket, which hung on its own in the cavernous wardrobe, and began taking things out of his pockets. He tossed two small silver cups onto the bed – his Bluetooth headphones. Then he unbuckled his toolkit from his belt and unrolled it.

Amber watched, none the wiser. ‘So what’s the plan?’

‘You book the conference room. We’ll need that as our operations room. Better make it for the next few hours.’ He levered the cover off one of the headphones. ‘I’m going to make this into a bug.’

Amber crossed to the desk to call reception. ‘So one of us will have to go into the laird’s office and plant it.’

Hex nodded. ‘That’s right.’

Amber opened the window of the conference room, letting in the smell of wet foliage and the sounds of frantic kitchen activity from the basement floor below. A cable snaked out of the window, along the wall and in through the corner of another sash window about two metres along. The window of the laird’s office. How convenient, thought Amber, they’ve left a trail.

But its location was less convenient. Although the room was on the ground floor, the alleyway behind formed a chasm alongside the basement kitchens. Tall, galvanized dustbins stood beside an open door. The actual drop was about five metres onto solid concrete. The only thing that connected the window she was looking out of and the laird’s window was a narrow stone ledge. How slippery would it be, in the wet?

She closed the window and sat down next to Hex at the conference table.

He snapped the cover onto the bug. ‘Sorry it’s so big. You’ll have to find something to hide it in.’

Amber slipped it into her pocket. ‘So long as it works.’

‘It’ll work,’ said Hex. ‘Any speaker can be used as a microphone and vice versa. They’re the same components put together in a different way.’

‘And you can pick it up from here?’

‘It’s Bluetooth,’ said Hex. ‘So long as I’m within range I can hear them.’

He went with Amber to the window and looked out. ‘Jeez,’ he said. ‘Are you sure you can make it?’

Amber’s voice was resolute. ‘Li would do it without turning a hair.’

Hex stepped back. His heart was in his mouth as Amber put one leg over the sill, and then the other. She put her hand up to the open window frame, pulled herself up into a standing position and stayed there for a moment, getting her balance. Then she swung back in.

Hex caught her as she landed. ‘Don’t do it,’ he said hurriedly. ‘It’s too dangerous. We’ll think of something else.’

Amber shook free of his grasp and bent down to her boots. She pulled on the laces furiously. ‘No I just need to take my shoes off. They’re too chunky and I can’t grip.’ She yanked her foot out of one boot and then the other, stripped off her socks and marched back to the window.

Hex felt sick as she eased out onto the window ledge and stood up again, graceful limbs silhouetted against the sky. She looked so fragile. If she fell . . .

Amber gave herself a moment to focus, collect her thoughts. The narrow ledge that led to the laird’s study was about four centimetres wide. Frankly, it didn’t look inviting.

Li had given her instruction in free climbing and Amber had been quite good. Her years of horse-riding, windsurfing and water skiing had developed her balance and she was fit and strong. They had climbed along narrow ledges together – but of course they had been roped and Li had been there to correct her.

She couldn’t think like that. She would have to imagine Li was with her, and they were climbing a slab of rock, not a building.

The stone windowsill was smooth beneath her feet. Actually, it wasn’t too slippery – much less slippery than a slab of rock would have been. Good, she was calmer, noticing details. From that would come concentration. She flexed her toes and spread her arms along the golden stone wall. She checked her technique: hands close, elbows dropped, fingers well into the cracks.

She had started.

The wall was built of large blocks, so the first handhold was easy to find. She slid her foot along the small ledge, then pulled the other one after her. Li’s voice in her head said:
Stick your bottom out
. The biggest mistake when climbing a slab was to hug the wall and flatten your body against it. Then your feet would slide off. Amber stuck her bottom out. Her weight went down through the balls of her feet and anchored her to the wall.

‘
With perfect technique
,’ Li had said many times, ‘
you can climb on hand- and footholds no wider than a coin
.’

Perfect technique. Li had perfect technique but Amber was still learning. When she moved, would she be able to keep the correct stance? She had an overwhelming urge to go back in through window.

But the others were depending on her. She had to go on.

Another of Li’s phrases came back to her: ‘
Climbing is like meditation. One hand, then one foot, then the other hand, then the other foot. Small movements. If you make big movements you’ll unbalance and fall. Small movements and you’ll get there
.’

Amber found she had started to move towards the laird’s window.

Down below she heard a noise, and someone whistling. She stopped dead still. A figure was walking down the alley below, swinging a black rubbish sack. Amber shrank away, trying not to be seen. Her feet started to slip and she stuck her bottom out again. Her heart rebounded against her ribs like a rubber ball.

Below, the kitchen worker opened the bin, tossed the rubbish bag in and headed back down the alleyway.

Amber took deep breaths. She moved on. She took it slowly, remembering Li’s instructions. It would be so easy to rush, trying to stay out of sight. She kept her eyes on the pale brick, her fingers, sliding each foot one by one and letting it find its place. The rain started again but still she kept her slow rhythm.

At last the fingers of her right hand met the next window frame. Her toes touched the broad stone sill. Nearly there.

She moved her right hand so that her watch face tilted. In it she saw the reflection of the room. No one in there.

Amber grasped the window frame tightly and pulled herself onto the sill. It was so good to have proper handholds at last. The window was open just a crack. Amber slipped her fingers underneath and pushed up. It rose soundlessly. She slipped through and sprang down to the floor.

It was a wood-panelled room with a big stone fireplace. Quite cluttered, unlike the studied, artfully arranged grandeur of the rest of the lodge. This place looked lived in.

Clutter was good. It was easy to hide a bug in clutter. She took the bug out of her pocket. It was about the size of half an egg. She looked around. Now, where was the perfect hiding place?

Something caught her eye. It was a metal object, uncharacteristically industrial against the dark panelling: their metal detector. The gamekeepers must have brought it back. Well, that proved beyond doubt that the laird was involved.

There was a desk of dark wood with a red leather writing surface. She lifted the lid on a cigar box. Too obvious. Next to that was a miniature brass container like a coal scuttle. It held odds and ends – pens, scissors, a paintbrush. A good spot – but would the metal stop it transmitting?

A wickerwork bin stood by the desk. There were papers in it – they would hide it nicely. She knelt down, put the bug inside it and flicked it on.

Then she heard something she didn’t want to hear. Somebody was turning the doorknob.

In the conference room next door, Hex heard the Bluetooth headphone spring into life. At first it was a jumble of sounds, like the kind of background noise you get when someone moves about on the phone. But then he began to make sense of it. And his spine went cold.

There were people moving about, feet on a carpet, somebody sitting down heavily in a chair. Voices all talking at once.

He ran to the window and peered out. He expected to see Amber making her way back, but the expanse of wall was empty. The only thing moving was the trees sagging as the rain came down. Amber was still in the room.

He listened for the sickening sound of a capture, but it didn’t come. The group in the room were settling down for a meeting.

He had to focus, pay attention. This was the information Amber was risking her life to get.

‘They’re coming at ten.’

‘But it’s only just getting dark then.’

‘It’s raining. No one will be out walking. You won’t be seen. Anyway, that’s the time they want to come.’

‘Aye. Let’s get it shipped and out. This place has become too dangerous.’

‘We should have got out before.’

A thump, like someone hitting a desk. ‘I told Ivanovich we could deliver and we can. I’m not missing a big order like this and I’m not letting him down – he’s got too many friends.’ Hex wished he could see them. Was that the laird?

Hex picked up Amber’s phone. He knew the others wouldn’t be in range, but just in case something went wrong he texted them. ‘
Pickup 10pm. V jumpy B careful. Buyer name Ivanovich
.’ He pressed
SEND
.

The voices carried on. ‘We do the delivery. After that, we destroy it all. Go away. It’s got too hot around here.’

They’d got the information. But where was Amber?

If they knew there was somebody in that room with them, what would they do?

Amber had her eye to the narrow strip of light. She could see figures moving about in the room. The laird was sitting at the big desk, his foot next to the bin where the bug was hidden. Two figures in tweeds paced the room, agitated – the gamekeepers.

She stood stock-still inside the cupboard. She hadn’t had time to make it to the window and anyway she couldn’t have got away in time. It was just luck that she’d noticed the panelled area on one end of the fireplace, where the panelling came out further than the chimney breast. It was a cupboard tall enough to stand in, and seemed to go back quite a long way so there was plenty of room. The air inside was stale and cold, the way a room smells if no one has been in it for weeks. A draught turned her wet clothes to ice, the stone floor froze her bare feet.

‘They’re coming to the factory at ten.’

Once the laird had said those words, she knew Hex would be texting the others. But there was something else they needed to know, something only she could see.

There were two more men – not dressed like the gamekeepers. They wore street clothes – dark T-shirts and dark baggy jeans. Amber couldn’t see much of them through the crack but what she did see made her want to steer well clear of them. One was stocky, with broad shoulders, and his head was shaved. The other was bigger and fat, like a bouncer gone to seed. They had rough accents, not like the softer local accent of people who lived around here. One of them walked closer to the laird’s desk to emphasize a point, and the way he moved would scare people in the toughest part of town.

The laird had brought in reinforcements to make sure the job went off without a hitch. Alex, Li and Paulo needed to be warned.

She heard the office door open, then slam. It must have been the gamekeepers leaving, because the heavies were still there and the laird still sat at the desk. He spread out a map and the heavies huddled close. Amber couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was obviously fairly involved. How long would they be? Amber couldn’t wait for long – she had to warn the others.